


Move Over, Jane Goodall- Stiles Stilinski Comin' Through

by ConniptionCrazy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: But it's fluffy and good, Derek is kind of disturbed, Gen, I swear, M/M, Stiles is curious, Trust me counter: 3, preslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2013-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-08 07:34:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/758762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConniptionCrazy/pseuds/ConniptionCrazy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles wants to know how the change works. So while they're on a stakeout, he has Derek shift for him a lot of times.</p><p>It's really just an excuse to touch Derek all over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Move Over, Jane Goodall- Stiles Stilinski Comin' Through

This is a stakeout. There will be no messing around on stakeouts. Which is why Stiles isn’t paired with Scott anymore, and why Scott isn’t paired with Allison. New combos are Stiles and Derek and Scott with Jackson. It’s Stiles’ and Derek’s turn to keep watch outside the warehouse. Stiles isn’t even sure _Derek_ knows what they’re looking for, but they’re out here looking for it. Stiles is in the passenger seat with his earbuds in and his precalc homework open on his lap.

 

But he hasn’t been able to concentrate on it for the past half hour. His mind keeps wandering, keeps going to werewolves, to Derek, to the change. There were so many questions, and so little answers. It was connected to heart rate, to emotion. But that was the extent of what they knew. And what about partial shifting? Scott had only managed it once, and that was an accident. So it isn’t like Stiles could study _Scott._

 

But _Derek_ , on the other hand...

 

Stiles looks up at him. Derek has his wrists resting lightly on the top of the steering wheel, hands hanging down, fingers slightly curled. Stiles’ eyes follow up Derek’s strong forearms, up his biceps, down his chiseled chest that is (sadly) concealed by his t-shirt, down to jean-clad thighs that rest slightly apart, knees down concealed by the shadows cast by the car. Stiles looks back up to Derek’s throat, the muscles of which stand out but are relaxed as Derek’s head is turned away from him, looking out the driver’s side window. Stiles studies the way Derek’s dark hair (perfectly styled, of course it was) rests on his head. It looks soft, and Stiles wants to touch. He refrains. He can see the sharp jaw and cheekbones, the strength in Derek’s face. Or what he can see of it. He knows that there is an equally strong brow and nose, and haunted but gorgeous blue-gray eyes.

 

“What is it?” Derek’s voice breaks Stiles’ thoughts, and he shakes himself.

 

“Nothing.”

 

He probably said it a little too innocently, because Derek has turned and is giving him a weird look now.

 

“Will you shift for me?” Stiles blurted out, trying to keep a straight face.

 

“What.” Derek is giving him the ‘oh my god you’re actually as stupid as you look’ face.

 

“Just your hands. Or your face. Please?” Stiles tries puppy eyes, even though he knows it won’t work.

 

“Why?”

 

“Let me ask you- how much do you actually know about it? The change.” Stiles raises his eyebrows, prompting. “Physically.”

 

Derek looks vaguely guilty. Stiles nods like that decides it.

 

“Exactly. I just want to study. Make notes, maybe. So we can learn more about this. You know? Not in a creepy scientist way- no. Just. So you guys can figure out control and healing and stuff a little bit better.”

 

Derek gives him a Look, but Stiles can tell he is close to caving. So he wants to know, too.

 

“Stiles, we’re on a stakeout.”

 

“A stakeout where nothing’s happened for the past hour.” Stiles pushes. “Come on.” Derek sighs, thinking about it for a moment, and Stiles can see the moment he has won.

 

“What first?” Derek grumbles reluctantly.

 

“Your hand, let me see your hand.” Stiles shoves his textbook off his lap and onto the floor of the Camaro, flipping to a new page of his notebook and poising his pen over it. He looks at Derek expectantly.

 

Derek licks his lips, adjusting his seat belt (which Stiles insisted he wear- wouldn’t get in the car without Derek wearing it) and holds out his right arm. Stiles has a moment to look at it, calloused palm and fingers, blunt, perfect fingernails, slightly paler inner arm, before the change takes place. It is soundless, and contrary to everything Stiles has ever read ever, looks painless. He glances up at Derek and then back to his hand. Deadly claws now tip his fingers.

 

Stiles takes Derek’s hand in both of his, putting his pen between his teeth as feels the bones and meat of Derek’s hand. His knuckles have grown- not by much, but it’s enough that Stiles notices. Bigger, stronger. Able to take a beating and deal one of their own. Stiles mumbles under his breath and makes a note. He turns Derek’s hand over. Thicker hair on the back of his hand, and on his fingers. Stiles makes more notes.

 

Derek watches Stiles watch him. He always knew there was something inquisitive in Stiles. That’s why Derek puts him on research duty. Aside from Lydia, he’s the only one Derek can rely on. But he didn’t know that Stiles’ curiosity went this far. He wondered if Stiles was swallowing revulsion or fear while he did this- if he was just doing this for Scott. If he was, Derek couldn’t smell it. Come to really look at him, Stiles looked completely enraptured by the change that had overcome Derek’s features.

 

Speaking of, Stiles has him go back and forth between human and wolf hand several more times. It’s not hard, not for Derek, but he’s surprised at the way Stiles is more fascinated than anything else. He’s not afraid. And Derek isn’t exactly sure how to feel about that. Stiles’ heart is beating a little more quickly than normal (It’s a little disturbing to Derek that he knows the rhythm of Stiles’ heart, when he can’t tell apart anyone else’s without the help of scent), but Derek has a feeling that that’s from excitement rather than fear.

 

“Teeth.” It’s not a question. Stiles is staring at his mouth and suddenly Derek is inexplicably glad for the gum he had been chewing.

 

He opens his mouth wide enough that Stiles can see his teeth before he calls the change to just his teeth, nothing else. Derek doesn’t know why he expected Stiles to be anything but thorough in this chance to explore werewolf anatomy. But he still balks as Stiles reaches up to his jaw in a casual movement, thumbing Derek’s bottom lip to reveal his gums. Derek jerks back, the memory of Kate torturing him coming to the forefront of his mind, along with the made-up image of him biting down on Stiles’ finger and turning him. But Stiles is looking at him like he’s the foolish one.

 

“I know you won’t hurt me, Sourwolf. Calm down.” He says, reaching again.

 

Derek warily stays still this time, watching Stiles’ every move very carefully. He tries to breathe through his nose, because Stiles is touching his teeth now, mumbling.

 

“... not that sharp... need force behind...” and then he’s making a note, sketching Derek’s canines. Derek has the urge to bite down again. But it’s instinctual- he can control it, and does so.

 

Like with his hand, Stiles has him go back and forth between human and wolf as slowly as possible several more times before he’s satisfied.

 

“Your face now?” Stiles asks hopefully.

 

Derek licks his teeth, tasting Stiles faintly before nodding and closing his eyes, leaning forward so that Stiles can touch again. He’s actually eager this time and that’s kind of surprising. He hears the rustle of Stiles’ clothes as he moves and the skritch of his pen as he makes notes. And then Stiles’ fingers are on his face. They’re softer than Derek expected, gentle. Exploratory. He turns Derek’s head in a way that makes Derek feel that he still has some control here. That if he wanted to, he could pull away. They both know this and- and Stiles is that way _on purpose_. Because he _knows_. He has to. Derek swallows and inhales shakily as Stiles’ fingers skim over his thickened brow.

 

Stiles goes over his nose, his jawbone, his forehead, his ears. All of it almost reverent. Derek can barely stand it. It somehow reminds him of Kate, even though she never touched him like this. She was never this casual with affection, or with touching Derek in general. It’s new and it makes Derek think about Stiles. About the _real_ Stiles. Mostly, what you see is what you get. A spaztastic, ADD, energy-high, intelligent highschooler. But there’s an underneath, a dark to the light if you will. Stiles doesn’t usually let anyone see, hides it so well it’s scary, but Derek’s caught it a few times. Not that he really knows what to do with this information other than acknowledge it. Stiles doesn’t seem inclined to talk about it, and Derek understands this, so he lets him get away with talking about inane things instead. There will be a time for feelings and speech, but not any time soon.

 

And not here and now, with Stiles’ hands all over his face, scratching at his stubble and running through his hair, checking for abnormalities in his skull, even though Derek knows there won’t be any. He lets Stiles do it anyway. If he’s being truthful with himself, it feels really good. And he doesn’t want Stiles to stop.

 

But he does, and has Derek repeat the process of transforming back and forth as slowly as he can a few more times.

 

The eyes are next, and Derek doesn’t know how he feels about staring Stiles in the eyes, his own going from red to blue to red again. Stiles isn’t looking away, studying him, and yes that’s supposed to be what’s going on, but Derek’s wolf doesn’t like it. He tamps down on it as much as he can. No need to get anybody killed over a friendly game of ‘let’s study the werewolf’.

 

Derek is still shocked that Stiles isn’t afraid of him, isn’t afraid that he’ll lose control and hurt him. All it takes is an iota of relaxation. Humans are physically fragile, it’s just a fact of life. Against the right materials, werewolves are, too. He blinks, unable to keep looking into Stiles’ eyes because there is something there that he really doesn’t want to examine. Something warm and Derek has an idle thought that if he let himself fall into that emotion, it might feel like a warm hug.

 

Stiles makes a few more notes and sketches, and he looks like he’s done, so Derek goes back to looking out of the window. On a stakeout. Like they’re supposed to be. The silence stretches. Stiles isn’t even writing anymore.

 

“You’re a lot stronger than you make yourself out to be.” Stiles says suddenly. Derek forces himself to have no outward reaction, which Stiles seems to take as some kind of encouragement. “I mean, not physically. Everybody knows you could take Chuck Norris in a fight and defeat his roundhouse kick of doom. But, I mean, emotionally. Mentally. You’re a good Alpha. Take care of everyone, you know? You give them courage. I know you’re not keen on the thing we just did, because you’re... wary, I guess. But I knew you wouldn’t hurt me. I’m just trying to say, I guess, that you’re a good guy. Okay? Okay. Shutting up now. Because that was the most heartfelt thing I’ve said in a long time and I’m not really sure where it came from, but yeah. That.”

 

Derek hears Stiles shift awkwardly in the passenger seat and still doesn’t say anything. He’s not really sure what to say. It’s not like people shower him in compliments like that every day- he knows how attractive he is, but he puts out an air of _I hate everything, especially you._ And Stiles is sort of the last person he’d expected to give him any kind of compliment. Especially after Derek was the one to split Stiles-and-Scott-BFFs-5-ever-team-of-great.

 

He clears his throat, shifts in his seat, and tries not to look at Stiles. Just because he’s not sure if his social skills are sufficient enough to say thanks and actually sound like he means it. He’s none of those things that Stiles says, but he appreciates the sentiment.

 

“We’re done here. They haven’t moved now, they won’t until morning.” Derek says finally. He puts the Camaro in gear and drives.

 

He gets Stiles home, and as the other is getting out of the car, Derek reaches over and grabs his wrist, giving him pause.

 

“Uh...” Stiles lets it hang in the air as Derek collects his thoughts.

 

“Thanks.” Derek says finally, swallowing and letting Stiles go.

 

“No problem.”

 

Derek doesn’t miss the beaming smile that Stiles sends his way. Fondness warms Derek’s stomach. And then the moment is gone. Derek has dropped Stiles’ wrist and Stiles has left and Derek drives off. Maybe Stiles and Deaton could compare notes or something. But during that whole process, of Stiles studying the subtle shifts in bone and cartilage and pigment- something happened between them. And Derek is... Oddly okay with that.

 

Behind him, on the porch of the Stilinski house, Stiles watches as red taillights fade around the corner.

 

-Finis-


End file.
